


017. Weapon

by fall_into_life



Series: Beacon University [8]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 02:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15764661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fall_into_life/pseuds/fall_into_life
Summary: Pyrrha reflects on how she got to where she is now.





	017. Weapon

When she was sixteen years old, fresh off of her latest victory on the Young Warriors circuit, Pyrrha Nikos came home to find her parents high out of their minds. Her father proceeded to inform her that she was going to make them rich, that she was going to pay them back for being born by enabling them to live in luxury.

This kind of conduct was utterly foreign to her. Her parents had always been far better than the horror stories she had heard of other fighters’ home situations. She chalked it up to the drugs, but she didn’t forget. She had become just a weapon to them, and that would not stand.

At dawn on her seventeenth birthday, she gathered everything she held dear, packed it into a suitcase, and headed for her bank. After making very, very sure her parents no longer had access to her funds, she bought the next plane ticket west.

She learned some hard lessons, that first year in Vale, but she learned them well. No one but her parents had ever thought her stupid. Now, she has her own apartment, has her own money, her own life.

“Deep thoughts?” Winter asks, coming around her side. Her fingers, always cold, brush over Pyrrha’s side.

Pyrrha turns to regard her. Winter Schnee. Heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. Pyrrha can admit she’s unsure what they are to one another. She cares deeply for Winter, that she can say for sure. Winter returns her regard, if the way she tends to Pyrrha’s post-fight scrapes and bruises is any indication. They touch often, and far more casually than Winter is inclined to allow others. Their dinners often have only minimal lighting and low, affectionate voices; Pyrrha smiles more with Winter than she has with any man who’s ever courted her. Winter has been in her bed - just in her bed, not in her body - more times than Pyrrha can easily count. Pyrrha thinks, on the rare occasions she stops to contemplate it, that Winter is courting her, but taking it very slowly. She doesn’t dare ask.

“Too deep,” Pyrrha admits.

She bends her head the scant few inches it takes to touch her lips to Winter’s. This, too, muddies the waters, though not as much as one might think. She kisses Blake as well, when they’re both relaxed enough. Though she can’t often bring herself to ask for it, Pyrrha thrives on contact, craves it. Winter gives her that freely.

Pyrrha thinks she may be in love with her.

When they part, there’s a dazed look on Winter’s face. She quickly wipes it away, but Pyrrha’s already seen it, sees it every time they kiss. It’s part of why she’s content to wait her out, to see if their relationship will cross a boundary that makes it more clear what they are.

“You found your way back,” Winter says, echoing Pyrrha’s words to her after she came back from her first combat assignment.

Pyrrha smiles. “I did.” She raises her hands, cupping Winter’s face and kissing her again, because Winter did find her way back, but she so easily might not have. “So did you.”

Winter’s fingers wrap around her wrist, and this time she takes far longer to erase the dazed look on her face. “I’ll… continue to find my way back to you, Pyrrha.”

It’s the closest to a confession they’ve come in the two years they’ve been doing this. Pyrrha strokes her thumbs over Winter’s jaw, then steps back. She offers Winter a small smile when their eyes meet. Not now, she thinks. Maybe soon, but not now.

“Are you staying tonight?” Pyrrha asks.

“If you don’t mind,” Winter says, ever thoughtful though Pyrrha has never denied her. Then again, that is very much Winter Schnee; her bags also stay in the guest room even though she shares Pyrrha’s bed, and she insists on paying for meals whenever she stays.

“I don’t mind,” Pyrrha tells her.

Her parents would be furious at the thought of her in such limbo with Winter. They would want her to either marry the woman - and therefore gain access to her wealth and privilege - or break away from her and seek a different partner. But Pyrrha Nikos made the decision years ago that she is not just a fighter, not just a weapon. She is her own woman, and she will choose her own paths to happiness.

“I ordered takeout,” Winter says, lacing her fingers with Pyrrha’s. “The restaurant we found on Main and 97th recently instituted a carryout menu, and it was simple enough to have it delivered.” Winter details their order, and it’s perfect, as always.

Pyrrha lets herself be led, and reflects that this may be destiny.


End file.
